“Ay, zur,” she answered.
Then he kissed her lips....
Late in the day the snow-clouds passed. Ice and black water mercilessly encompassed us to the round horizon of gray sky. There was no hope anywhere to be descried.... In the dead of night a change of wind herded the scattered fragments of the pack. The ice closed in upon us—great pans, crashing together: threatening to crush our frailer one.... We were driven in a new direction.... Far off to leeward—somewhere deep in the black night ahead—the floe struck the coast. We heard the evil commotion of raftering ice. It swept towards us. Our pan stopped dead with a jolt. The pack behind came rushing upon us. We were tilted out of the water—lifted clear of it all—dropped headlong with the wreck of the pan....
I crawled out of a shallow pool of water. “Bessie!” I screamed. “Oh, Bessie, where is you?”
The noise of the pack passed into distance—dwindling to deepest silence.
“Davy,” my sister called, “is you hurt?”
“Where is you, Bessie?”
“Here, dear,” she answered, softly. “The doctor has me safe.”
Guided by her sweet voice, I crept to them; and then we sat close together, silent all in the silent night, waiting for the dawn....